


Climbing The Trellis

by deductionz



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, First Kiss, First Time, Greaser Sherlock, Greaser!lock, Johnlock - Freeform, M/M, Nerd John, Nerd!John, Teen John, Teen Romance, Teen Sherlock, Teenlock, Underage Sex, teen!lock
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-08
Updated: 2014-11-08
Packaged: 2018-02-22 08:57:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,179
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2501981
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/deductionz/pseuds/deductionz
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sherlock pays a visit to John late at night, and his charming nature takes hold of the situation.<br/>Inspired by fanart by archiaart on tumblr.<br/>(RP Based)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Climbing The Trellis

**Author's Note:**

> Not co-edited or anything like that, so all mistakes are mine!

Sherlock had wandered the damp London streets countless nights, and this night was no different; the only source of light being the dim flicker of his lit cigarette and the occasional streetlamp. The soft orange glow reflected on his pale skin, accentuating the edges and angles of his defined face. Tonight, he found his way to his friend John Watson's back garden, hopping the pristine white fence in a single swift movement.

John, lounging in his bedroom, rubbed his eyes and picked his pencil up again, continuously staring at the paper. Growing frustrated, he tossed the paper aside and grabbed another, scratching his head as he began reading and studying the material for his upcoming pharmaceutical exam. John's mind drifted, Sherlock's deep voice ringing in his ears. It was then he had given up, resting his head against his desk with an exasperated groan.

Gathering small rounded pebbles from around the garden, Sherlock maneuvered his way towards the house; careful to evade the paths of light shining from the lit windows. Tossing the tiny stones up at John's bedroom window one at a time, Sherlock watched and waited for an answer from behind the drawn curtains.

John sat up as he heard a sound coming from his window, turning. He flinched as he approached it, a resounding clink coming from the other side of the curtains. Pulling back the blue textured fabric, John peered out with his hand cupped against the glass to block out the glare from his bedside lamp. His heart began to not so subtly pound in his throat when he saw him standing there. "Oh, no," John said under his breath, and he opened the creaking window. "Sherlock!" he whisper-yelled down to him. "What are you doing here? Do you know what time it is?"

Leaning coolly against the fence, Sherlock flicked the ash from his cigarette. "I've missed you," he stated simply with a shrug and a smirk, silky gray smoke billowing from his nostrils as he approached the rose trellis attached to the side of John's modest house. "Can I come in?" he whispered, looping a finger through one of the trellis rungs.

"What?" John said. "No!" But Sherlock had already begun climbing, the low heels of his boots clicking against the wooden frame of the trellis. "Sherlock, I don't have time for this!" He sighed and gripped the edge of the window, knowing there was no stopping Sherlock. Backing away from the window, John ran his hands down his face in exasperation, wondering just how he'd managed to end up here, with a greaser.

Sherlock quickly scaled the wall-mounted garden, his dim cigarette perched between his expressive lips as he went. Climbing carefully up to the second floor, Sherlock swung a leg over the windowsill. Brushing off his jacket and jeans after climbing fully in, Sherlock smiled down at the blushing boy who adjusted his thick-rimmed glasses out of habit. Flicking his cigarette out the window, Sherlock watched as the sparks scattered in all directions. "Oh.." He began. "It looks as though I've caught my finger on a pricker from the rosebush," he purred with a pouted bottom lip and raised brow. "Could you fix it?" Sherlock extended his hand to show the bleeding finger, the crimson a stark contrast against his glowing alabaster skin, much like his midnight hair; slicked back with hefty amounts of gel.

John crossed his arms and glared at Sherlock his room through the window. With his hand extended as so, John's personal instincts told him exactly what Sherlock was trying to do. His instincts lying with his ambitions to be a doctor, however, told him to help even the smallest cut on that gorgeous body; already scattered in scars from previous fights. John held still. "Sherlock, I'm studying for my exams," he said, dismissing Sherlock's thoughts. "I have things to do. Don't you have school stuff you should be working on?"

"You aspire to be a doctor, so consider it practice," Sherlock waggled his finger, seemingly unfazed by the blood now clinging to the tip of his finger in one condensed droplet. "And to answer your question, I've already finished my work. Theoretically, in case you've forgotten, I can never forget anything, so all the information I'll need for my exams is stored away up here. Besides, exams are boring," Sherlock dismissed John with a wave and crossed the room, flopping dramatically onto his bed.

John rolled his eyes. "Well, unlike you, I happen to have a normal thinking pattern that involves not being able to memorize things at first glance. Just because you're a bloody genius, doesn't mean you can come in here and occupy my time whenever you like," He crossed back to his desk, grabbing the papers and getting them in order to put to the side. "You're a distraction, Sherlock. I'll fail because of you," He stood at the foot of the bed, crossing his arms over his chest. "And a little nip on the finger isn't practice. It's common sense."

"Alright," Sherlock held his hands up in a gesture of surrender as he sat up on his elbows upon John's bed. Grabbing a tissue from the bedside table, he dabbed off his bleeding finger and tossed it in the bin. "I thought you might like my help, but I suppose I'll leave, then," Sherlock sighed and made his way toward the window; swinging one leg over the sill. John bit his lip as he watched him, but he suddenly felt guilty for just pushing him out like that. "Wait!" he said, and immediately regretted it. "Just... You can stay for a while. Just be quiet, yeah?" He didn't need his parents finding him upstairs with a boy, let alone a bloody greaser.

Sherlock smiled cheekily and lit another cigarette, puffing a hefty breath of it out the open window. Swinging his leg back over the sill, he tucked his hands into his leather pockets, his lips formed around the roll of tobacco. "Thanks," he said with a wink from those icy eyes. Staring at Sherlock and mentally scolding him, John furrowed a brow. "Those things will kill you, you know," he said, leaning back against his desk and crossing his arms yet again. "Make you look much older, too." Settling down onto the edge of John's bed, Sherlock propped his elbow up on his knee; chin perched in his hand. "Are you telling me I'm wrinkly?" Sherlock chuckled deeply and scrunched up his nose.

"No," John insisted. "No, I'm not saying that. You're just... I don't know. It can age you faster, is all," He shifted awkwardly, looking out the window. "I'm only joking," Sherlock hummed a deep laugh, stripping off his leather jacket and hanging it on one of the bedposts. "Lighten up, John. Come lay with me for a while," he cooed, dousing his cigarette in the glass of water on John's bedside table. John was tempted by Sherlock's voice that drew him in like a Siren song, but he didn't move. "You insist on flirting with me," he said slowly, "But you don't even acknowledge my existence in school. Very romantic..."

Sherlock frowned slightly, crossing his arms defensively over his chest. "I don't talk to anyone in school, you know that," he rolled his eyes, as if it were obvious. "Maybe you should change that," John suggested, crossing over to sit next to Sherlock. "It's not like I have friends, really," He looked at Sherlock beside him, arms at his sides, tanned hands nervously gripping at the duvet. "Tell you what," Sherlock smiled, slinging an arm around John's shoulders and pulling him roughly close. "Since neither of us have anyone else, let's have each other."

John kept his eyes down and let out a huff of a laugh. "Each other? That can have two meanings, you know," And he had a feeling he knew what Sherlock meant. Sherlock raised a dark brow and smirked crookedly, gripping John's arm a bit too tight. "I know," he said simply, eyes flickering between John's lips and his own eyes. John felt a deep blush creep into his cheeks. "So which do you mean?" He asked in a small voice, wetting his dry lips with his tongue. They were so close, and he was almost tempted to lean up to press their lips together.

"Instead of telling you, let me show you," Sherlock whispered as he leaned in ever closer. Blinking slowly, Sherlock's pupils dilated to their widest as he pressed his soft lips to John's; his serves setting themselves alight at the connection.

John gasped slightly just before their lips pressed together, his eyes slipping closed. He'd never kissed another boy before, but the new sensation sent a shiver up his spine at the realization of kissing Sherlock of all people. It was thrilling, exciting, and confusing all at once, and he found himself leaning upward for a better angle. Sherlock reached up and cupped John's face gently in his calloused hands, stroking the other boy's cheek with his tobacco-stained thumbs. Humming softly against John's inviting parted lips, Sherlock leaned their heads together.

Sherlock's lips tasted of cigarettes and something that was mint, and it was intoxicating; filling John's head with blissful clouds. He wanted more of it. Slowly, John parted his mouth to lick at Sherlock's full bottom lip, testing. Smiling against John's inviting mouth, Sherlock connected their tongues; tangling them as he felt a rather embarrassing blush creep over his accented cheeks.

A breathy moan escaped John as their tongues intertwined. The taste was of cigarettes and something of mint, and John fond himself quickly craving it. Breaking for air, Sherlock' pupils were blown wide, searching John's face as he panted softly. Turning a deep shade of scarlet, John's eyes were just as opened as Sherlock's. "That.. I..." He found himself speechless at Sherlock's mercy. "Woah..."

Sherlock, for once, was unable to speak. Swallowing thickly, he leaned their foreheads together; calming his skyrocketed heart rate and breath. "Sherlock..." John reached a small, shaking hand up to tangle his fingers in the greaser's hair before pulling him in for another kiss. Humming contently, Sherlock melted into John's small frame. Locking their lips perfectly, Sherlock inhaled the boy's recycled air; kissing him long and lovingly.

Of all people John had never expected Sherlock to be so slow and gentle. His nose bumped John's glasses, sliding them askew on his face; bringing a smirk to his lips. Teeth scraped, tongues tangled, and breaths mixed as the two panted heavily; hands absentmindedly running over leather and wool. Experimentally, John gave a small tug on the midnight curls, gently scratching his nails across his scalp. This withdrew a rather embarrassing mewl from Sherlock's lips, his breath coming in hot puffs against the glasses-clad boy's swollen lips, pressing hard kisses to them.

The sound sent shivers through John's body, only encouraging him to pull more on the sensitive curls, now wild after being played with. "Sherlock..." He whimpered against his pale lips. Sherlock pulled back, an erotic trail of saliva connecting their lips, his eyes searching John's. The smaller boy only stared into Sherlock's electric irises for a moment before pulling him by the shirt collar to crash their lips together once more; falling backward onto the bed. He moaned against his lips as he felt the comfortable weight atop him, their bodies pressed together.

Straddling John's hips, Sherlock subtly rolled his own against him; their lips and teeth mashing together with wet, loud kisses. John gasped softly, grinding up against the greaser's strong hold. "Sherlock... Sherlock, please," He begged. Pulling back, Sherlock searched John's glistening face in the dimly lit room. "Not good?" he asked softly. "What? No, no, no," John said, nearly breathless. "I want... More. Everything." Sherlock grinned and his eyes glimmered with dark understanding. Dipping his head, Sherlock dove into John's neck to plant wet, biting kisses. John had to chew his bottom lip to keep from making too much noise. "Yes," he gasped.

Marking John's neck with a set of red teeth indents, Sherlock brought his hands to his waist, untucking John's jumper from his trousers. Arching his back, John leaned into Sherlock's heavy touch, his skin flushed pink. "Sherlock!" he whimpered, trying to keep quiet so his parents wouldn't hear them. Sliding down the tanned body before him, Sherlock pressed his nose against John's soft, exposed stomach. Trailing kisses just above where his trousers began, he tugged the jumper all the way up and over John's head, tossing it carelessly aside with John's aid. John's heart was thumping heavily against his chest; never expecting this fantasy of his to come true.

Sherlock ran his cool, calloused hands over the expanse of John's caramel skin, marveling in it's softness and warmth. Licking a wet stripe from naval to collarbone, Sherlock puffed desperate, damp breaths against his nipples. A shiver ran up John's body, goosebumps erupted across the surface of where Sherlock touched. "Oh, Sherlock," he breathed gently, loving the sound of his name coming from his own mouth; suddenly aware of how hard he was in his trousers.

Sitting back on his heels, Sherlock peeled his t-shirt over his head and dropped it in a heap on the floor. He could feel John's growing erection prodding against his thigh, and he couldn't help but grin devilishly. John's eyes eagerly took in the newly viewable planes of Sherlock's body. He was thin with beautiful, pale skin; an occasional freckle dotting just above his hip or around his bellybutton. He couldn't help himself, for he was almost immediately letting his hands wander over his front, fingertips tracing over his ribs and nipples. Sherlock braced himself over John by placing a hand on either side of his chest, relishing in the warmth blooming in his chest as he ground their clothed erections together.

John had to bite down hard on his tongue to stifle a groan, his hands resting on Sherlock's protruding hipbones as he settled beneath the comfortable weight. "May I?" Sherlock purred as he traveled down John's body, mouthing the skin below his naval dotted with golden hairs; hooking his fingers into the waist of his trousers. As if John could even give permission with how red he already was simply from this. It took everything in him to simply nod, and not cry out desperately for Sherlock to fuck him hard into the mattress. Sherlock swiftly undid the button and zip of John's trousers, pulling them and his red pants off in one movement, leaving them around John's ankles for him to kick off. He was quick in toeing them off, his socks coming off with them as they landed in a pile at the end of the bed; the blood rushing in his ears. He was so eager.

Upon seeing John's surprisingly sizable cock spring free, Sherlock growled hungrily and reached down to undo his leather belt, peeling his tight fitting trousers and pants off. John realized as he saw himself just how hard he was, and painfully so. But his eyes were fixed on Sherlock as he stripped, admiring every new exposure of skin. Sherlock swallowed thickly as he discarded his clothing, remembering his scars even in the dark. His legs, back, shoulders and arms were dotted with cigarette burns, blade nicks and even marks put there on purpose. They were extensive, new and old, and they were impossible to hide completely. John noticed them, each scar and injury. Of course he noticed them, but he didn't say a word about them as he gently traced his fingertips over the small bumps in his flesh. Sherlock was absolutely gorgeous.

Exhaling deeply, Sherlock slotted his knee between John's legs, leaning in again to softly trail his lips over the boy's chest and neck. John panted deliciously, his shaking fingers carding through Sherlock's shining curls. He tilted his head to give better access at his neck, eager. Closing his eyes, Sherlock shuddered slightly at the feeling of John's warm body beneath his lips, exposed to the sucking and biting of his hungry mouth; leaving bright red marks upon his sensitive neck. At the sight of John so desperately aroused under him, Sherlock ground their leaking cocks together. John's gasp trickled into a breathy moan as he bucked up against Sherlock, in need of any friction between them. Whimpering softly, he leans up to kiss at Sherlock's long, pale neck in return.

Sherlock curled his hands around John's strong hips, holding them down as he rolled their erections together; Sherlock's occasionally dipping between John's legs and pressing against his entrance. "Ah," John sighed inwardly and hooked his legs around Sherlock's waist, desperate. Crawling down John's body, Sherlock positioned himself between John's legs; his knees propped over his shoulders. "Is this alright?" Sherlock asked cautiously, intending to lubricate his eager hole. John sat up slightly on his elbows. "Oh, please, yes," he said before resting back again. "Sherlock?" he asked after a moment.

"Mhmm?" Sherlock murmured through kisses, placing them on John's soft inner thighs. John swallowed thickly, his Adam's Apple bobbing upon his golden throat. He spread his legs subtly, giving Sherlock more room to explore. "Promise me this isn't a one-time thing." Sherlock's lips stilled, lingering just behind the curve of John's left knee. Reaching up with a steady hand, he gestured for John's and interlaced their fingers in a strong grip. "I promise," he whispered, eyes shining. John held the pale hand in his own and closed his eyes, trusting him.

"I love you," Sherlock murmured, nuzzling his nose into the soft, trimmed blonde hair above John's cock; inhaling his scent. John gasped, dizzy with the want and need he felt for Sherlock. "Sherlock, I..." God, those words- three wonderful words he didn't realize he'd been craving. "I love you too, Sherlock, I do." Sherlock's mouth split into a wide grin, his pristine teeth shining even in the low light. Beginning to mouth John's thick shaft, he used his tongue to massage the flushed skin; intending to show the boy just how much he did love him.

John's eyes remained closed as he focused on the sensations. Sherlock seemed rather talented with his tongue, sending shivers through John's eager body. Finding his way to the tip, Sherlock pressed the flat of his tongue against it, lapping up the precum. Humming as he let it into his mouth, Sherlock's throat constricted around the veiny shaft. John managed to let a whimper escape him, his hand coming up to cover his mouth to quiet himself. His other hand was busy, his fingers tangled in Sherlock's dark curls. He looked down to watch as Sherlock's obscenely perfect lips wrapped around his length, swallowing him down almost effortlessly. "Mm..."

Bobbing his head on John's desperate cock, Sherlock groaned softly at the feeling of fingers tugging softly on his hair. Letting his hand wander from John's inner thigh to his own member, Sherlock pumped himself erratically. "Sh.. Sherlock..." John huffed his name gently, suddenly switching to biting at his fingers to hush his breathy whimpers. He'd never felt pleasure quite like this, never been so turned on and incredibly hard in all his life. Only Sherlock could do this to him- his Sherlock; no one else's.

Sherlock felt John's erection grow ever larger, pressing against the walls of his throat. Releasing it with an audible "pop", he smiled at the trail of saliva that still connected his swollen lips to the head. Traveling up John's delicate body, Sherlock locked their mouths in a hungry kiss, the desirable salty taste of John still strong on his tongue. John breathed heavily from pleasure, whining softly when it came to a stop. He couldn't complain, however, when he had Sherlock's lips to silence him again. He could taste himself on the greaser's lips and tongue, and his cock seemed to pulse at the mere thought of how erotic it truly was. John reached a trembling hand between them to touch and grasp Sherlock's equally erect cock, stroking him as they kissed.

Sherlock sighed heavily against John's lips and moaned softly as the smaller boy's hand closed around him, tugging at him in long strokes. "Oh god, John," he bit his kiss-swollen lip to keep from groaning too loudly. "That's it, Sherlock, that's it," John encouraged him in a thick voice, stroking him at an achingly slow pace. Burying his head in John's neck, Sherlock bit down on his shoulder to keep from crying out. "Let me fuck you, John, please," he growled, bucking his hips. Crying out, John felt his precum slithering through his shaft and beading at the throbbing, reddened tip. "Fuck, yes, Sherlock," he whimpered.

Exhaling deeply, Sherlock mouthed at John's shoulder as he used their mingling seed to click his cock. "Do you... Have anything? Protection?" He panted damply against his skin. "Um..." John thought quickly, glancing to his bedside table. "In the drawer," he said breathlessly. He'd never expected to use the little stash of condoms, but he learned that it was better to have them at hand than to never have any at all. At a time like this, he was glad he was going to be a doctor. Otherwise, he may have never gotten any. Smiling and fumbling through the bedside drawer, Sherlock closed his fingers around the silver square packaging. Tearing it open with his teeth, Sherlock rolled it on with a steady hand; lips mouthing desperately at John's chest, occasionally lapping at the perked nipples.

John couldn't believe that he's finally going to have sex, never having thought that it would be with Sherlock of all people. But it was going to happen, and he was practically floating on ecstasy. "Come on, Sherlock," he urged in a hushed voice, squeezing the dark haired boy's upper arm. "Eager, are we?" Sherlock purred against John flushed skin, spreading his thighs with a gentle press of his hand; teasingly prodding the tip of his aching cock against John's entrance. Gasping, John bit his lip and pushed his hips back against Sherlock. "More than you know," he managed to get out. "Just... please."

Tensing his body, Sherlock slowly pressed into John; grunting breathily as he slipped into the wet heat. The muscles in Sherlock's thighs quivered as he situated himself inside of John, waiting for the blonde's panting to slow, the initial pain of the stretch subsiding. "Ready?" he purred, supporting his weight by planting his hands on either side of John's midsection. The smaller boy grunted in response, offering a curt nod signaling his eagerness.

Sherlock began rolling his slender hips, pressing himself slowly into John's eager hole, already slickened by his dribbling precum and a sheen of delectable sweat. His cupid's bow lips formed an 'O' as his nerves were practically lit on fire, his body feeling as though it were turned inside out by the new waves of pleasure from the simple penetration. John was wriggling beneath him, his breaths ragged; biting his lips to keep the moans locked away but failing miserably. He was openly groaning with each thrust as it grew more intense, Sherlock's balls tapping against his pretty little arse with an erotic slapping sound. Raising a shaking hand from the mattress, Sherlock probed a finger into John's warm, wet mouth. "Now, now, don't want to wake your parents, do we?" Sherlock growled.

Drawing out of John so just his tip was breaching him Sherlock offered a sly grin with eyes darkened with desire before slamming back in, his own composure wavering as he felt himself reaching the edge. His hips were gyrating in somewhat of a circular motion, touching on John's prostate, making him cry against his finger as he assaulted the bundle of nerves. Sherlock dipped his head to lap at John's peaked nipples, suckling one into his mouth and holding it between his teeth as his thrusts became erratic. Hot breath pouring over John's chest, the light-eyed boy winced as the blonde raked his nails across his back; the pain delicious. Whimpering around the erect nub of flesh, Sherlock let himself go inside of John; buried deep in the blonde's arse as his release leaked into the condom.

John wasn't far behind, biting down on Sherlock's finger and scrabbling at his back as his own orgasm crashed down on him. His cock shot thick ropes of cum between the two of them, pooling in John's bellybutton and sticking to the sparse, dark hairs of Sherlock's chest.

Pulling out slowly, Sherlock's pupils were blown further wide at the sight of John gaping below him, rolling off the condom and tossing it into the bin beside John's bed. "Shit, you're stunning," he murmured once his body had quit trembling, sliding down John's torso to his spread legs. Burying his face in Johns side, Sherlock's eyes got heavy; the room thick with darkness. They lay in comfortable quiet, the only noise being their breaths; slowing inhales and exhales in tandem.

Sherlock could have sworn he heard John mumble an "I love you," before slipping off into dreamland.


End file.
